My sister turned into a banashee, ever since she was back from trick-or-treating, her wig had turned into real hair, and she was wailing about a person about to die. She wasn't wearing her costume either. She was wearing rags, and had deep scars in her skin, and purple bruises too.
"She has died," my sister wailed. And to rpove it, she ran to the cemetry, and came back with a human, real heart in her hand. My mom screamed, "You know better than to steal dead people's hears!"
"But I'm a banashee and I'm supposed to steal hearts and lungs and brains," my sister shrieked.
"She's a banashee, mom," I said.
"I know she is. "Mom screamed.
"Not for Halloween, for REAL," I snapped.
"Yes, for real." my sister hissed. And she got a bucket, ran out of the door, and came back with a bucket full of blood.
"Get this real banashee out of here." Mom yelped.
"Then where shall I live?" asked Mrs. Banashee.'
"I- I don't know. I -just live somwehre e-else," mom stuttered.
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